


Sheppardology 101

by neevebrody



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's practically made a science of knowing where to touch, when to linger and when to move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sheppardology 101

**Author's Note:**

> The Weapons Chair should probably be added as a character.

Rodney's gaze covers the long line of the man seated in the Chair. He pulls off Sheppard's half-laced boot and frees one leg from those goddam baggy-ass BDUs that drive him crazy. With an appraising eye, he follows the arrow of silky shadow from the waistband of John's boxers up across a landscape he knows as well as his own body. John's unbuttoned shirt reveals just enough of that sweat-laced strip of skin to tantalize, a salty treat begging for the touch of Rodney's tongue.

But not today. Instead, he glides a hand along the back of John's calf, the back-brush of hair like an electric current against the pads of his fingers, the muscles tightening as Rodney goes higher. No, he has bigger fish to fry.

Setting his sights on the creamy white of John's inner thigh, Rodney bends to the spot and pulls the tender flesh between his teeth. The heat and musk of John's crotch is one heady mix and much closer than the half-realized moan floating in the air above him.

There, on the control pad, just out of the corner of Rodney's eye, John's balled fist. Rodney sucks harder, muffling his own moans, sucks harder still, in time with John's breathing. Maybe he can loosen that grip, force John to slip those white-knuckled fingers around the back of his neck and pull Rodney to where John really wants him.

But, Rodney knows John, he'll hold out, 'til the very end. And it's not like Rodney hasn't already been merciless in his teasing: tonguing John's ear, whispering dirty little overtures, rolling John's tiny nipples into hard pebbles, then plucking them with his fingertips. Thought for sure he'd had John then, but, to Rodney's dismay, those hands had never left the chair.

No matter. By the time Rodney's done here, all that decorum and mulish self-control will be lost to the pull of his mouth and John's need to push even deeper into that wet heat. It's something John can't seem to resist. Ever. Rodney doesn't mind admitting that he loves that moment. When he can feel John break… when that last thread of restraint snaps. And Rodney never lets John down, never leaves him out there on the other side with no way to get back. Rodney's always there, with a word or a touch or even a look that promises, _You're safe – I'm here_.

He pulls back to admire his work, soothing the nicely purpling skin with the flat of his tongue, and that seizes John's breath in tight, throaty gasps. Wetting his tongue more, Rodney licks up over the center of John's tented boxers, drinking in that scent that is John's alone and makes Rodney think of sex, pure sex and nothing else. He smiles at the way John's cock twitches and taking the cotton-covered shaft in hand, he squeezes it while bathing the tip until the material is dark and clinging before pulling it aside.

Now that he has John all worked up, when he can tell by the way John's muscles flex and relax rhythmically, that he's close to giving in, close to letting Rodney have him – he makes John wait. At least that's what Rodney's telling himself. All that panting heat and brushing eager lips over the pulsing shaft, or nosing through the coarse hair surrounding the base could be considered more teasing, or it could just be that if Rodney doesn't slow down, he might come all over himself.

Cutting his eye to the side, Rodney watches John's fingertips dig into the control pad. He smiles to himself. John's not exactly an open book, but Rodney likes to think if anyone knows the essence and complexities of this man, he does. He's practically made a science of knowing where to touch, when to linger and when to move on.

He looks up and licks a long stripe up the warm shaft. Both hands rest on John's thighs as Rodney teases the slit and coaxes forth a sweet swell of precome. He laps it up greedily as the air rushes out of John's lungs with a certain resignation. John finally lets go of the Chair and grips the hand resting on his still-clothed thigh.

Swirling his tongue over the darkened and swollen head once, twice more… Rodney can't hold back any longer. He wants that cock in his mouth. Even more than that, he wants to feel the surrender in the grip of John's hands and in the sound of his voice, wants to see and hear what he's doing to John.

He takes John deep in one move, hollows his cheeks when he pulls back over the silky-hard shaft and thumbs across the mark he made earlier, pressing in hard to feel the pulse underneath. There. He could have timed it… John's moan. Followed by the other hand winding it's way up Rodney's neck to take a loose grip in his hair.

Rodney pulls off with a lewd pop. He circles his hand around the base and licks his way around, up and over until all John can manage are bits and tags of words. The heat coming off John's body settles over Rodney in waves, each in time to the buck of John's hips. Rodney holds him loosely, cock bobbing freely, finding friction against Rodney's lips, his cheeks, searching for a way back inside. The weight and play of it spins a coil of desire deep at the base of Rodney's spine.

And with that, he gives in to what John wants, takes what he himself needs. He covers John's cock inside moist heat, but gives John room to push up, to tighten another fist in Rodney's hair and fuck Rodney's mouth. And he does.

Rodney grips the Chair for support. Aching for his own release, he raises himself slightly so he can take John deeper, faster, the rush of it nearly too much. The urgency is there now. In the way the rhythm changes, in John's grip, in the way pieces of words have come together to make just one… _Rodney_.

He checks his breathing and pulls back just as the first spurts coat the roof of his mouth. He rides this out with John, anchors the frenzy, then allows John to soften with careful kisses and caresses. Patient, but still thrumming with need, he follows when John pulls him up and searches the corners of Rodney's mouth. Rodney knows it's to find the last bit of himself to share, making it _them_ they both taste.

Rodney can't hope to hold back his moan as John pulls at his bottom lip and idly works the button and zipper of Rodney's pants undone, taking his time to trace the hard outline of Rodney's cock. He smiles against John's unhurried lips. Oh yeah… it's his turn in the Chair. This is going to be good.


End file.
